


A Little Lace Never Hurt

by Feekins



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Canon events are a little more spaced out, Drama, Implied Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, No Smut, Non-Explicit Mention/Discussion of Sexual Things, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Queer Themes, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-01 20:02:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10198679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feekins/pseuds/Feekins
Summary: It wasn't something Oswald thought he'd ever share with anyone. He didn't want to, and really, no one needed to know about it. You just didn't talk about such personal matters. For months, he kept his unspoken, untraditional preference to himself.Of course Edward had to be the one to bumble right into it.





	1. Black

 "...did you forget to throw out your stepmother's clothes?"

"Whatever are you talking ab-?"

Upon turning around, Oswald immediately wished he hadn't. His face blanched, eyes boggled, posture stiffened, like a boy whose parents had just discovered something particularly lewd tucked away under his mattress.

It wasn't _too_ far from the truth about his present predicament.

He knew it was a mistake to let his friend help him finish dressing for the day. Of course it wasn't necessary, but Ed had _insisted_ , and who was he to deny him? At the very least, they hadn't started from scratch. As it was, Oswald stood there in naught but trousers and a dress shirt, though he felt so embarrassed he might as well have been naked. Before him, Ed cut a fine figure in his handsomely deep green suit. Any other time, Oswald might have appreciated such perfect tailoring and pleasing form - but not now.

Not when Ed was peering into an open dresser drawer full of lacy, delicate, decidedly _non-masculine_ underpants.

"I'd say stepsister, but this _is_ the master bedroom," the taller man continued, pulling the drawer open a little further. It would have been humiliating enough had Ed not then hesitantly _reached in_   to prod through all the different pairs. "Though I will say, for her age, she was _quite_ a small woman, wasn't she?"

"N-Not really," Oswald squeaked out.

Damn Ed for being so inquisitive. Damn him for his persistence. And damn _himself_ for being too horrified to do anything to stop him!

A pause. Ed's hand stilled. Then he extended his fingers again, brushing aside prettier panties to reveal several rather unremarkable pairs of boxer briefs underneath. Oswald's stomach flipped horribly at the comprehending, _bemused_ look Ed shot him, nearly _flinched_ at how his too-bright teeth flashed in a grin.

"I see. Trophies?"

The fact that he didn't faint from the sudden rush of blood to his face was both a surprise and a _terrible_ disappointment.

" _No!_ It's not like-!"

"It's alright! I _completely_ understand!"

 _No, Mister Edward Nygma, you most certainly do not,_ Oswald's mind screamed back.

"It's not an uncommon behavior among murderers! It's sentimental, something to remember the victim, the crime, the _thrill of the hunt,_  if you will-"

"Ed, that's  _not-!_ "

"I kept Miss Kringle's glasses, remember? This is  _no_ different - though I admit, I never pegged you for  _this_ type of, um..." The taller man chuckled, gesturing to the thin lace, the soft colors, the occasional simple but elegant print. And Oswald,  _poor_ Oswald, he wanted nothing more than to shrivel up right there and  _die._ If ever there was a time for someone to attempt to assassinate Gotham's soon-to-be mayor, oh, how he wished it was  _now!_

Still oblivious to his friend's embarrassment, Ed prattled on, speaking  _much_ too enthusiastically and fast, "What I mean is, I don't recall you ever expressing much interest in women - or  _anyone,_ for that matter, but that's neither here nor there. People  _look_ sometimes. It's only  _natural-_ "

Oswald bristled because  _Ed, there is NOTHING natural let alone DECENT about ogling people like that, why on EARTH does everyone think it is and why do YOU of all people buy into that garbage, too?!_

"-but you don't! I  _noticed_ that about you! You also never talk about your sex life, so it's either nonexistent or you're very private about it."

"Edward,  _please._ "

Leaning a little heavier on his cane, Oswald brought a hand to his face. Sure enough, his skin burned against his palm and fingers. This conversation was  _not_ happening.

"Either way...wow, why  _women's underwear,_ Oswald? If you don't mind me saying, it doesn't exactly fit in with the whole..... _you._ The  _Penguin persona._ There's also the fact that she was your stepmother, which makes this a little questionable, but I  _assure_ you I'm not passing any judgment-"

" _Oh my God._ "

"So - it's fine! Again,  _trophies!_ I understand!" Ed chuckled again. Judging by the way he withdrew his hand from the drawer and by the faint pink starting to dust his cheeks, it seemed the subject of the conversation was finally catching up to him. Still, he pressed on unflinchingly, "Incredible, though. I learn something new about you ev-"

**_"NO, THEY'RE MINE, ED!"_ **

Silence settled over the bedroom. Face falling in an instant, Ed stared down at him, baffled by the sudden outburst. It took all of Oswald's willpower not to shrink away. In that moment, the awkwardness, the self-abasement gripping him was so strong he could throw up. But he couldn't escape from this, couldn't even look away. Best to deal with it now, and head-on. After all, his dearest, closest friend was  _bound_ to find out about this thing sooner or later.

At long last, Ed broke the silence, breathing, "...beg pardon?"

Oswald swallowed hard, not sure if the lump in his throat was from fear, humiliation, nausea, or a vile cocktail of all three. He averted his eyes, forced himself to draw in a deep breath before opening his mouth again. When he spoke, his voice was so small, so indignantly strained.

"That...underwear. It's mine. All of it."

The bafflement lingered, all too evident in Ed's tone.

"That's. What. I'm  _saying,_ Oswald, they're-"

"They're  _not trophies._ "

With that, Oswald turned, moving unsteadily toward the large walk-in closet. He wasn't running away. He  _wasn't._ Not really. Behind him came a roll and tap of wood on wood - the closing of the underwear drawer - and Ed was following after him,  _still_ undeterred.

"If they're not trophies, then why would you have them?"

"For the love of-! Why  _else,_ Ed?!"

He didn't know what possessed him to do it - frustration, his damnedable predisposition to melodramatics, to shut Ed up,  _whatever._ All Oswald knew was that one moment, he was rounding on the other man. The next, he'd cast his cane aside, undone his trousers and yanked his waistband down - just enough to reveal an edge of black lace riding low on his hips.

Finally, everything clicked - or seemed to, anyway.

Palpable realization hit Ed full in the face....which, incidentally, Oswald had never seen turn quite that red before. Another moment or so, and the smaller man all but ripped his eyes from the other, mumbling as he zipped and buttoned himself back up, "Like I said. They're  _mine._ For me -  _just me._ To wear."

The seconds ticked on, dragging indefinitely, it seemed. Ed's silence only made Oswald more painfully self-conscious, more distantly ashamed. His secret was out, and for all the world, he wished it wasn't. He retrieved his cane and pushed past Ed, desperately willing the moment to pass and time to resume.

"Now can we  _please_ get back to getting dressed?"

"....Right. I'm sorry."

An outfit was picked out. Colors and accessories were coordinated. The tension was impossibly thick in the air as they stood before the mirror, eyes averted, cheeks still burning bright. Oswald followed his silent friend's reflection as he retrieved today's vest. After knowing him for so long, Ed had to be shocked, incredulous,  _revolted._ Men like Oswald didn't just-!

"Is that your kink?"

Well. That was  _one_ way of getting the embarrassed Penguin's attention.

"... _what?_ "

Ed opened his mouth, closed it, licked his lips, then haltingly spoke up again. He still wouldn't look at Oswald - not that Oswald could blame him.

"Do you...have...a cross-dressing kink?"

" _No!_ "

"Sorry. I thought...better to ask than assume, right?"

"Oh. Yes. I suppose..."

That scandalized look faded from Oswald's face, and silence settled back upon them. After helping him into the vest, Ed retreated to fetch their next garment. For a moment, Oswald fidgeted with his cuffs, still quite unsettled.

".........I'm not-!"

Now it was Ed's turn to glance over in surprise. Oswald fidgeted a little more, pulled at his sleeves, then began again.

"Ed, you should...um. Truth be told, I don't... _do_...those sort of things."

"...what sort of things?"

"Oh, you know," he replied with a vague wave of his hand, trying and failing to act casual about the whole thing, even while his face and ears were still burning. " _That._ Kinks. Any, ah.... _carnal_ activities, really. That is to say, I don't-"

"-engage in...?"

"No."

"Ah. You're non-sexual?"

Their eyes met, and.....somehow, Oswald felt a little less vulnerable, a little less threatened. He even managed a small smile as he nodded, "Yes. Precisely."

Ed gave a thoughtful nod. Up came his coat, and Oswald slipped into it easily. His earlier embarrassing reveal aside, it felt as if they'd come to a bit of an understanding. Maybe...Ed had moved on?

"I...apologize for making you uncomfortable."

"No, it's...okay."

"...I'm still curious, though. Why do you wear...?"

Like that, the fear and shame flared right back up again. Oswald stiffened, swallowed hard. It was still weird. It was still  _not right._ He shouldn't have let Ed help him. He didn't understand. He wouldn't, he  _couldn't._ Even so, Oswald racked his brain, planned his words carefully as he folded his arms tightly across his chest, eyes fixed somewhere in the vicinity of where his cane leaned against the side of the mirror. Ed had already seen all...or, close enough. How much further could Oswald possibly fall?

It took a moment for him to realize Ed had stopped moving to help. He stood beside him empty-handed, watching him expectantly. This did nothing to calm Oswald's nerves.

At long last, he shrugged, explaining softly, "I just.....I like how I look and feel in them, that's all."

He glanced back over at Ed, and....that  _smile_ he found waiting for him was pleasantly unexpected, red though his friend's cheeks still shone.

"Those are some good reasons. Now...!"

Like that, the moment had passed. Ed looked him up and down, assessing their work so far.....brown eyes lingering a  _little_ too long on the other's hips.

Shoving down the urge to smirk, Oswald pretended not to notice.

"I know we were originally going to go with something simpler for the cuff links," Ed continued distractedly, "but now I'm thinking...the silver ones with black inlay?"

Relief washed over him.  _Ed didn't mind._ He  _wasn't_ mad, he  _wasn't_ disgusted. Finally, Oswald was able to relax. With a shrug and a grateful look, he replied, "Well...I think I'll just trust your judgment on this one, friend."

After all, Ed  _did_ have quite good taste.

Oswald just didn't expect for further proof of this to show up a few days later, when he'd all but forgotten about the... _incident._

It was set carefully on his pillow, all wrapped nicely in tissue paper and ribbon, with a telltale green question mark scrawled in one corner. Oswald opened the gift without suspicion. The moment he set eyes on what was inside, though, he gasped and dropped it on the floor, blushing wildly.

A pair of deep aubergine pinstriped boxer briefs, its trim and paneling on the sides an intricate lace, stared innocently up at him.

And Oswald didn't know which he wanted to do more: to scream at Ed or to kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What started off as a silly, self-indulgent concept has evolved into something more complex, serious, and queer. I fully blame my friend Blackratchet for that. Thank you for pushing me to write this, and then encouraging me to expand upon it! I couldn't have done it without you!
> 
> One final note: At present, I have the next chapter mostly written out. I'm not sure how soon I'll have it ready to post, as I have grad school stuff I'm also working on, so let's shoot for sometime within the next week. Until then, I hope you enjoyed this opening chapter, and please don't hesitate to let me know what you think about it!


	2. Aubergine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course Oswald liked the gift Ed left him. The way it made him feel, however...

It was quickly shaping up to be a rather interesting morning, to say the least.

Oswald didn't know when Ed had gotten the chance to sneak into his bedroom, but the evidence was right there on the floor where he'd just dropped it. He couldn't take his eyes off the pair of lace-trimmed boxer briefs, in all honesty couldn't believe they were there in the first place. This wasn't happening. This _didn't_ happen, least of all to _him._

What exactly was "this," though? What did it _mean?_

The sound of creaking floorboards snapped Oswald out of his flustered daze. Wide eyes snapped up, too sharp in their terror, taking in every curl of dark-stained wood grain on the closed bedroom door. Footsteps passed just outside, then trailed off down the hallway. For several more seconds, Oswald stood frozen, barely breathed as he strained his ears to listen, praying those footsteps wouldn't return. When they didn't, he all but tripped over himself in his rush to secure the lock on his door.

If anyone walked in on him now, he was _certain_ he'd die of embarrassment.

Whipping around, the Penguin cast wary, incredulous eyes once more upon the interloping undergarment. Such an innocuous thing should not have agitated him so. Of course he'd seen more shocking things in his line of work, but somehow, none of it measured up. Nothing he'd witnessed up to this point had drawn quite the reaction from him as did the fact that _his best friend had just fucking given him pretty lacy underthings_. That just wasn't something one _did_...unless your name happened to be Edward Nygma, apparently. Oswald did very much want to yell at him, to demand to know the meaning of this. As he approached the bed and carefully leaned down to pluck up the dropped boxer briefs, though, he couldn't deny there was something else stirring in his chest.

The way Ed _smiled_ at him just a few days ago. The _understanding_ Oswald had seen and felt so clearly in him after explaining why he...wore these kinds of things. Everything about his dear friend seemed indicative of acceptance. As always, Ed saw him as no one else did. He saw all of Oswald's parts - the good, the bad, the hurt, the anger, the scars, the messy, the confusing, the downright eccentric - and he embraced both them _and him_ in his entirety. Ed was kind of incredible like that.

Why, then, did something about the whole situation _bother_ Oswald?

With a sigh and a resolute pout, he shed his robe, then the rest of his clothes as he limped to the walk-in closet. Barely a minute later, there he stood before the large three-panel mirror, naked save for his new boxer briefs. They _were_ quite lovely, he thought as he turned to scrutinize himself in profile. Yes, perfect from their pinstripes to their particular shade of purple. The black lace trim and paneling was wonderfully soft - not even remotely scratchy, unlike some lace Oswald had encountered in the past. What stunned him the most was the _fit_. The garment didn't ride up, pinch, or constrict. To be honest, they were probably the most comfortable pair of underpants he'd worn in a while. It was as if they'd been _made_ for him.

Something deep in his gut clenched at the thought, but for the life of him, he couldn't make out whether this was good or bad.

As heat rushed to his cheeks, Oswald wrenched his gaze from the mirror, snatched up a clean undershirt, and unceremoniously pulled it on over his head. He tried his best to put the matter of Ed's covert present out of his mind, but to no avail. As he went through the motions of dressing himself, something itched at the edges of his thoughts, like something minuscule and prickly had gotten into his shoe and he couldn't get it out. Oswald tried to brush it off, resolved to talk to Ed about it later - although he really didn't know _what_ it was he wanted to discuss, or _why_ he felt the need to discuss it. After all, these boxer briefs _were_ gorgeous, and he was _most definitely_ keeping them. Really, he should be thanking Ed, right? For such a thoughtful present? Just days after Oswald had shared with him one of his deepest not-so-dirty secrets? Yes, it was something _nice_ , something _good._ It _had_ to be.

Even so, about half an hour later, he couldn't help but feel a little antsy with Ed sitting so close beside him in the back of the limousine.

Some high school on the other side of town - not in a bad neighborhood, just one that wasn't incredibly affluent. That's where they were headed. It was only the first of several public appearances they'd make that day. Just thinking of all those impending visits and meetings made Oswald tired all over again. He would _definitely_ need some coffee before addressing the staff and senior class at PS-103. For the fifth time this ride, he ran over his talking points in his head.

_Let's see, "The education of Gotham’s youth is-"_

"Mr. Mayor?"

It wasn't the formal address that drew Oswald's attention, but the slight nudge of his chief of staff's elbow against his arm. When he glanced up, sure enough, Ed sat smart and quietly confident as ever, regarding the other man with thinly-veiled curiosity.

That tiny itch, that disquiet lurking in the far reaches of Oswald's mind returned. He smiled back despite it in a way he hoped came off as relaxed and amicable...

"Mr. Nygma?"

...and, thank goodness, Ed was none the wiser, asking casually, "I trust you saw that tie before we left?"

"What t-?"

"The one I sent up. Just after breakfast."

Oswald's brow furrowed. Of course he hadn't looked at any ties, nothing beyond the few he'd considered whilst figuring out what final touches to put on today's outfit. Puzzled, he opened his mouth to inquire further...when he caught Ed giving him a sidelong wink.

Right away, he felt the color drain from his face.

_Oh my God, he's referring to the underwear._

His first instinct was to fling the car door open and dive into oncoming traffic. Needless to say, Oswald did no such thing. Instead, he gave in to his second urge, which was to cast a panicked but furtive glance in Butch's direction. The larger man sat just on the far end of the seat opposite the mayor and his chief of staff, sullen and silent. Lips in a tight line, Butch looked over the contents of an unmarked file sitting open in his lap. Whether or not the papers in front of him held his full attention was unclear. Best to play it safe by going along with Ed. That would keep Butch off his scent.

His mind made up, Oswald let a false look of dawning realization cross his face before grinning, "Ah, _that_ one. Yes, indeed, I did!"

"...Did you like it?"

The airs about Ed remained neutral. The upward twitch in the corner of his lips was telling, though, as was the second wink that accompanied his question. It was his eyes that really gave him away, full as they were of a sort of reserved eagerness. He really was wanting to talk about this "tie" - with Butch mere feet away, no less. Why he hadn't waited for a more opportune, _private_ moment to broach the subject, Oswald couldn't have begun to imagine. Then again, Ed's mind functioned in strange ways. It was one of his many charms, as much as it sometimes exasperated Oswald. Ed had a wonderful brain - baffling, but wonderful.

So, then...what was he _doing?_ Was this all a trick, or something a little more genuine? That question mark Oswald had seen on that small parcel on his pillow seemed to indicate the former. The fact that Ed had chosen to discuss the contents of said parcel _here_ and _now_ was a little suspect, too. Or...maybe Ed just couldn't wait? And he'd been so kind a few days ago when he'd first learned of Oswald's unconventional undergarment preferences. What if that gift _really was_ just a friendly gesture? What if Oswald was worrying over nothing? Yes, perhaps Ed deserved the benefit of the doubt.

Without missing a beat, Oswald nodded, "Yes! Very much, actually!"

Something about Ed seemed to melt away - a sort of settling and softening, a dispelling of nerves whose presence Oswald hadn't perceived seconds before. The change was subtle. A short, inaudible released breath. The barest relaxation of shoulders. The widening of a warm smile. Ed shifted slightly, turned toward Oswald a little more.

It all might have banished the smaller man's unease, had the fantastic idiot beside him not continued to pursue the present topic.

"Good. I'm glad! I...saw the pattern and thought you might like it. Based on similar designs you seem to favor."

Of course, the poor Penguin had no choice but to continue to play along.

"I did - I do! Thank you, really, you sh-"

"Have you tried it on? It's not too long, is it?"

"No, it's-"

"If need be, I could take it back to-"

Embarrassed and mildly annoyed though he was, Oswald managed not to snap at Ed - even as the color that flooded back to his face felt twice as vibrant as he answered, "It's... _fine,_ Ed. _Really._ "

Another quick glance in Butch's direction, and fortunately, he still wasn't looking up at them. Yes, if luck was on their side, he didn't suspect a thing - and Oswald would make sure it _stayed_ that way. To that end, he added hastily, "Now, before I forget, have we heard back about the progress on that statue I commissioned?"

That seemed to get Butch's attention. Out of the corner of his eye, Oswald saw him lift his head. It came as a relief, perhaps even as visual confirmation of a return to normalcy. Ed seemed to struggle to do the same, if only for a moment. The curiosity vanished from his eyes as he collected himself. Pushing his glasses a little further up the bridge of his nose, Ed replied dutifully, "Yes, I received a call before we left. It should be delivered to the mansion by late afternoon."

Oswald felt his face split into a grin - a genuine one.

" _Excellent._ "

"The statue of your mother, right?"

 _Oh, bless you, brute,_ Oswald rejoiced inwardly at Butch's interjection. Surely, having someone else go along with the topic change would discourage Ed from changing it back. The fact that Butch didn't wait for an answer before going on helped, too, "Not to be rude, but what're you doing with that thing again?"

"Tomorrow morning, it will be placed downtown as a symbol of our honorable mayor's commitment to keeping Gotham safe," Ed explained succinctly, beating Oswald to the punch - not that he minded, of course.

Butch's eyes narrowed, jumping from Oswald to Ed.

"I wasn't asking you, _Nygma_."

"Well. Either way, your question has been answered."

With an indistinct grumble, Butch went back to scanning through his file. Oswald felt more than saw Ed shift in his seat, heard him clear his throat, but he paid no attention to him. The mayor looked out the window with a sigh, his hand fidgeting briefly atop his cane.

Really, he couldn't stand or understand it, this tension between his two top men. He wasn't sure when it all began, either - two nights ago when he'd won the election, or perhaps earlier than that. For now, it was but a small annoyance. With any luck, it wouldn't worsen. Maybe Oswald could ignore it for a little longer...or, at the very least, endure it until they parted ways later in the day. And if worst came to worst, he wasn't above kicking either Butch, Ed, or both of them out and making them _walk_ back to the mansion.

_...You know, I'd take Ed talking in code about my underwear over his petty rivalry with Butch any day._

Oswald really should have been more careful with what he wished for. Not a minute or so later, there came another slight nudge against his upper arm. He didn't acknowledge it, or the nudge that came a little after that.

Unfortunately, Ed would not be deterred.

"Seriously...they're okay, right?"

The hairs on the back of Oswald's neck stood on end when he felt the other's breath so close to his ear. Although Ed had spoken in the softest of whispers, his words so mortified Oswald that he might as well have shouted. For several tense seconds, Oswald didn't respond. Then, still stubbornly turned to the window, he hissed between his teeth, " _We'll talk later._ "

No answer.

Just the Penguin, the city beyond the window, and that incessant itch in the back of his mind.

At some point - he didn't know precisely when - Oswald realized it had gotten worse. That unsettled, uncomfortable feeling that had been nagging at him since the moment he'd laid eyes on those damned boxer briefs became a little more difficult to ignore. What was originally something akin to "tiny pokey thing in shoe" had upgraded to "there is definitely a mosquito flying around in here because this is the second time I've been bitten in the last two minutes." What's worse, he _still_ couldn't place a finger on why he felt this way.

The silence stretched on. Ill at ease, Oswald had great difficulty turning his mind back to today's mayoral duties. He forced his eyes up to the faint, wispy clouds high above the city, heart beating in his ears.

Neither he nor Ed spoke for the remainder of the ride.

 

* * *

 

To everyone's relief, the mayor's various visits all around the city played out perfectly. Each one reinforced what Oswald knew but still couldn't quite believe: He'd won the election. His constituents truly loved him. He'd _actually gained_ the power and respect and adoration he so craved from the city he loved. By all rights, the Penguin should have been happy through and through, both in and out of the public eye.

He wasn't.

The Ed situation still weighed heavy on his mind. Since their visit to PS-103, Ed seemed...apprehensive. Reticent, even. For one thing, when it didn't concern today's work, he had spoken very little conversationally. For another, he'd taken to giving Oswald a bit of space, which in and of itself was a _definite_ cause for concern. From the moment they'd first met, Ed always tended to stand too close - but not today. Even now, back in the limo, as they sat across from one another, the taller man was careful not to let his long legs accidentally knock against Oswald's. The way Ed silently kept his distance, it unnerved him, which in turn made him grow a little more irritable as the day stretched on. It was as if there was some sort of static electricity built up around both Ed and Oswald, making them instinctively wary of coming too close to one another lest they get zapped.

Butch was either completely unaware or uncaring of this. He didn't so much as spare a glance at either his boss or his lanky green-clad right-hand man. Instead, he busied himself with the finicky task of pulling his glove onto his remaining flesh hand while the limo sat idling. Oswald normally would have felt very insulted that Butch was ignoring him, but alas, today was not a normal one. Really, Oswald's days stopped being normal the moment Ed accidentally peeked into his underwear drawer. If he was to continue avoiding suspicion, the Penguin's best bet was to do what he'd been doing all day: Putting the phrase "fake it 'til you make it" to good practice.

Keep cool, keep it normal, and everything would go smoothly. Soon, Butch would leave them. Soon, Oswald would be able to confront Ed in complete privacy.

"So, everything's clear?"

"Crystal."

He wasn't convinced. Nose in the air, Oswald leaned over and plucked up the file Butch had been perusing earlier that morning. It was an itemized overview (courtesy of one Edward Nygma) of various duties and tasks for the larger man to carry out. Oswald asked as he idly flipped through the pages, "You've reviewed _all_ the details?"

"All of them, yes."

"And you have the photos for your first 'errand?'"

Without a word, Butch pulled a small handful of Polaroids from his inner coat pocket. Still, Oswald was not satisfied, and for good reason. He shook his head, clicking his tongue in distaste: Right there in his lap, between the last two pieces of paper in the very back of the open file, there laid one faded photo Butch had somehow overlooked. The kingpin pursed his lips as he picked up and briefly examined it.

A terrified child all bundled up in a winter coat stood alone on a deserted, rocky beach.

Green-blue eyes narrowed, sharp as the cold snap captured in the Polaroid he gazed into. Oswald wasn't particularly fond of children. Even so, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the little one in the picture. For God's sake, it looked as if they'd been hardly older than five or six years. Seconds after the pity crossed his mind, it was replaced by wicked conniving. What a _shame_ it would be if word got out about what had happened to that poor child just a few years ago. And imagine the _field day_ the press would have if a little birdie told them it was one of the Board of Education's most esteemed members who'd paid a known, notoriously brutal criminal to carry out such heinous acts!

"Do remember to show the good Dr. Pottinger _all_ of them," the Penguin finally grinned. "It wouldn't do to let good blackmail go to waste, would it?"

"...Right."

With an almost insubordinate sneer, Butch snatched up the last Polaroid, opened the door, and stepped out of the limo. Oswald's grin faded the moment the larger man turned his back on him. It was about damn time. At long last, he'd be able to-!

"I still don't get why you're sending _me_ to do this."

...and Butch was hanging back, good hand on the hood of the limo. Of _course_ the oaf had to try to get in one more word. Immediately, Oswald snapped back, "I'm not asking you to 'get it,' Butch. I'm _telling_ you to _do your job_."

A brief stare-down. Then, a begrudging "Yes, boss."

The car door slammed shut just as the smaller man let out an exasperated huff. Annoyed though he was, he leaned over to peek out the window, watching Butch make his way up the block towards a particularly upscale apartment building - Dr. Pottinger's residence. Only when Butch had left his limited field of vision did Oswald settle back again, mumbling to himself, "That should keep him busy for a few hours..."

Right. On to the next order of business: The conversation with Ed that Oswald knew was necessary, yet regarded with no small amount of dread. Heat rose to his face at the thought of it. He'd barely begun planning his approach to the dilemma when there came a slight cough from the man across from him. Oswald looked up, catching Ed in the act of lifting his head to regard him similarly. Eyes locked. Ed's gaze was guarded but steady. Something about it, something in his eyes and in the way he held himself, unsure yet so attentive, it was...oddly reassuring.

Lips smacking as he opened his mouth, Oswald said, "Ed, about earlier..."

"Yes, about, ah..."

Both trailed off. Neither of them could finish their respective opening statements. With a shake of his head, Oswald decided to simply forgo his altogether. It was no use prevaricating about the bush; the sooner he got to the heart of the issue, the better. Perhaps the blunt approach was his best option, anyway, fit for the task of delineating _exactly_ what Ed had-!

"I crossed a line."

Ed's admission so caught Oswald off guard, he could only stare open-mouthed while his brain scrambled to catch up enough to form a response. The one that came to him was almost timid.

"Y-Yes, you did."

"It's made you uncomfortable."

"Among other things, yes."

"...What other things?"

With a sharp shake of his head, Oswald promptly backpedaled, "We'll get to that, but - one thing at a time."

A nod as Ed's dark brows knit together, almost hidden behind the frame of his glasses. He was all pensive, hands clasped loosely in his lap, eyes slightly out of focus. Oswald dared not distract him from his thoughts, not now, not yet....and yet always, always, his anxious mind nagged at him to speak, to act.

"Ed, I..."

But his mind stuttered into static the instant Ed met his eyes again. It took a moment or two for Oswald to realize his friend was giving him an odd look - as if he were a particularly perplexing puzzle, a human Gordian knot that Ed spent so long picking over despite so many twists and turns, ever patient, ever careful not to fray or pull too tightly.

"Yes, Oswald?"

Such rapt attention, such determination was just the kind of reassurance Oswald needed. With a nervous chuckle, he started again, "I am... _fairly_ certain that when you were asking me about ties earlier, you weren't actually referring to a tie, were you?"

"Correct. I wasn't."

It was by no means a new revelation. Still, having his suspicions confirmed worsened that awful unsettled feeling in the back of Oswald's mind. A breath to steady himself, and he pressed on, "What you _actually_ meant was the...the underwear I _know_ wasn't on my pillow before breakfast."

"Right again."

Ed had known what he was doing. He _had_ to. Considering the degree of chagrin Oswald had suffered from all day, his next point deserved additional emphasis, which was why he then gestured to the vacant far side of the car, "Which...you proceeded to ask me about while Butch was sitting _right there_."

With a sheepish, guilty grimace, Ed unclasped his hands - and relief began to slip over Oswald. Ed was contrite, having realized his mistake. This conversation wasn't so hard, was it? Yes, they'd reconcile and put all this behind them in no time......or perhaps it truly wasn't destined to be Oswald's day.

Adjusting his glasses out of nervous habit, Ed said, "I suspected that was part of it..... Although, if I may, substituting 'tie' for 'women's underwear' didn't seem to-"

It was such a small thing, the utterance of that stupid pair of words - but to Oswald, who had spent the greater part of the day anxious, who had expected Ed to have more tact and to understand why what he'd done was _not okay_...that stupid pair of words was the red cloth waved in front of a raging bull.

"This has nothing to do with _substitutions!_ "

Oswald punctuated his indignant cry by stamping his cane down hard, too angry to care how dangerously close he came to stabbing his own foot in the process. _So much for settling things peacefully_ , he thought as he bit out, "Although, _if I may_ , we went over this already: They're not _women's_ underwear - they're _mine!_ "

Ed's visible surprise at the outburst dissipated quickly. The fact that he hadn't even flinched made Oswald all the more irate. With a sigh, Ed regarded his smaller friend with a quirked brow.

"That's not important. Butch didn't-"

" _Isn't it,_ though?! Allow me to break this down for you, _Ed_ : The only time they're women's underwear is when they are owned by a woman, _which I am not_ , ergo-!"

Ed didn't look any less confused, just more perturbed. It so infuriated Oswald, he couldn't finish his sentence. Something stung inside of him, something he desperately didn't want to think about at the moment. He steeled himself, tried his hardest to shut himself off, to shut Ed down and out. Tight-lipped, he sat back, ripping his eyes from the man in front of him with a bitter huff.

"I don't know why I bother. You don't underst-!"

"No, I _don't_. That's why I gave you those boxer briefs."

".... _what?_ "

Oswald turned back, all of his anger and hurt turning into frustrated confusion. Before him, Ed's cheeks were tinged red, eyes distant, almost lost-looking. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and for a moment, it seemed as if he was about to speak, only to hesitate, brows creased. All the while, Oswald stared, impatient yet reticent, hyper-aware of the heat rising to his own face.

In that moment, he felt so _green_ , at such a loss for what to do next - just like he'd felt when Ed's eyes had widened at the sight of black lace under his trousers.

After what felt like several minutes, their gazes finally reconnected.

"Partially, rather," Ed added with a grimace.

"...Because you don't understand."

"Yes. No. I... Let me explain."

At that point, Oswald was much more confused than he was mad, and from the looks of things, Ed wasn't faring much better. The shifting atmosphere in the back seat reflected this. It was more awkward, having lost its earlier edge, becoming less defined, more viscous, more alien by the second - like that time in science class when Oswald learned about non-Newtonian fluids. He was twelve years old. He remembered mixing water with cornstarch, and how _otherworldly_ the resulting goop felt in his cupped hand. It went tough when he slapped at it, but then dribbled between his fingers and onto the desk.

Inconsistent. Unpredictable. Just like his and Ed's present situation. It made Oswald want to squirm as he waited with bated breath for the other man to continue.

The tips of Ed's ears glowed pink. For a brief moment, he glanced away, licked his lips while his eyes wandered to the floor, then back up to a bewildered Oswald. Nodding to himself, Ed began again, "Let me explain. I know you wear wom...sorry, things your average man doesn't. I have an idea as to why, but that's...not important."

Oswald's eyes darkened. Ed must have noticed, for he then rushed to clarify, "Oh dear, what I mean is...as I've thought about it, I've realized your reasons are your own and therefore none of my business. Unless, of course, you choose to _make_ them mine, but...I digress."

He paused to shift in his seat, leaning in slightly - opening up, even as his fingers crossed, interlaced, twisted around one other like restless snakes. Oswald felt like his insides were doing something similar, if only because he didn't know where Ed was taking all this. The way Ed's eyes were fixed so unwaveringly upon his own didn't help.

With a slow breath, the taller of the two gestured open-palmed before clasping his hands again, "I _don't_ understand all of it. But what I _do_ is that this, what you wear.....it's something which you _obviously_ have strong feelings about. And it's very personal. By leaving that present for you, I wanted to show you I respect that, and also...to thank you for sharing it with me. And apologize for sticking my nose where I ought not to."

Oswald didn't know what to say. For his occasional bouts of social ineptitude, Ed was _incredibly_ perceptive - sometimes more than either of them realized. It at once warmed Oswald's heart and chilled his spine, was both oddly comforting and unnerving. He couldn't quite put his finger on why.

Chewing his lower lip, Oswald ruminated on the other man's words. It was true Ed didn't completely understand. That much was clear just by the way he spoke of the whole underwear thing - then again, perhaps Oswald was a little unfair to him, reacting so vehemently to every verbal misstep. Ed was his _friend_. He'd only ever had the best of intentions for him, right? Time and time again, he'd _helped_ , he'd _listened_ , he'd been _for_ him rather than against. He wasn't like anyone else Oswald had ever been close to. He wasn't like Zsasz or Butch or Gabe, or his mother or father. Ed was something else entirely - a _true_ friend, a _best_ friend. Someone who took him for who he was, despite his outbursts and moments of weakness. Ed  _complemented_ him, even now, like colors on a painter's palette, their juxtaposition making one another all the more lovely.

Lately, those colors were muddied by the way Oswald was on edge about every reference to his taste in underwear. At once, he realized it all went back to a single familiar, discordant hue. It was the needlessly-mixed-in black that was the discomfort he'd tried to ignore for the better part of the day - and which he chose to ignore no longer.

Eyes coming up to connect with Ed's again, Oswald said slowly, "And you...gathered all this...?"

"I've been thinking about it all day. And before, when I was...getting your gift together. I was eager to know what you thought of it. Of course," Ed grimaced, "that _doesn't_ excuse how I brought it up in front of Butch."

It felt like a breakthrough - and it _was_. Ed then broke eye contact, gaze falling down and to the side.

"I'm sorry for breaking your trust."

"Ed, _no_. You-!"

On impulse, Oswald reached for the other man's knee, only to falter when he looked back up at him. Thinly-veiled guilt and curiosity are what he saw, furling like smoke in Ed's eyes and etched into the shape of his mouth. Something else was suspended there between them, formless, nameless. It had Oswald second-guessing himself, hesitantly withdrawing his hand as he tried to speak again.

"You didn't say what it was outright. I do appreciate that."

The small smile that came to life on Ed's face felt like another tiny victory.

"But Ed, the thing is... You are _absolutely_ right, it's a very personal matter, and that's why...I _don't_ appreciate how you brought it up under such inappropriate circumstances. I revealed this... _thing_ about myself to you in _confidence_ , and in confidence is how I want it kept."

"So I should keep it private - and _in_ private," Ed said, his expression shifting to something a little more serious.

"Yes."

A thoughtful nod from Ed, his gaze dropping once more. Oswald shifted uneasily, suddenly not knowing what to say next. An inexplicable fear lingered within him - fear that, despite what leaps and bounds they had made thus far in their conversation, Ed still didn't and _wouldn't_ understand. Oswald would _like_ him to, of course. It would be _wonderful_ if he did. Ed knew Oswald so well, better than anyone else in the world, and the thought that after all this time, there was something Ed actually raised an eyebrow at him, maybe even _judged_ him for? That hurt.

At long last, Ed spoke again. He was quiet, steady.

"Oswald? Earlier, you said...what I did, it made you uncomfortable, among other things. May I ask what those other things were?"

Ed looked back up at him. Oswald was...a little caught off-guard by the question. Still, he gave a hesitant nod and replied, matching Ed's tone, "Well...confused, for one thing. Unsure of myself, for another. Maybe..."

'Afraid' was what he wanted to say, but the word died before it could even leave his throat. With a frustrated sigh, Oswald shook his head, "I don't know. I can't..."

_Can't what? What can't I do?_

"...I don't-!"

_Don't what?_

Fed up with himself, Oswald threw his hand in the air and slumped back, glaring petulantly at nothing in particular. This wasn't like him. Why wouldn't the words come? Why couldn't he just say... _whatever_ it was he was trying to say? More importantly, why didn't _Ed_ have anything to say about it?! Frustrated and embarrassed, Oswald continued to sulk. When he wasn't sure he could take the silence much longer, he reluctantly met Ed's eyes again. What he saw in the other man's gaze, mixed with persisting confusion, was something searching and a touch of concern - but more than anything, patience.

The burning agitation died down. Oswald's scowl faded, lost its severity. He was still frustrated, but despite this, he felt drawn to speak, to try again.

"Ed...?" Oswald wasn't sure why he hesitated. A breath, a sigh, then, "To be honest, I have... _no_ idea how to talk about any of this."

"That's _fine,_ Oswald."

So reassuring, such patience. It encouraged him to continue, "All I know is that...well, what we've already gone over. Beyond that, I don't..."

"Again, that's _fine_. Really. We can drop it. Or talk later, if you'd like."

Somehow, their conversation felt unfinished. Oswald _hated_ to leave it like that, but what was there left to be said? Ed's offer made sense. And it was so accommodating, so thoughtful, so..... _warm_. Oswald wasn't sure where that warmth came from, but it made the rest of his nerves and frustration melt away. With a faint smile, he nodded, "Later, yes. I'd.....I'd like that."

An answering smile from Ed, and they fell once more into silence - but this time, it wasn't uncomfortable. Even that unease that had bothered Oswald all day seemed to have finally abated.

It seemed, for all the world, like he really had worried over nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter turned out longer and took MUCH more time to write than I anticipated. Ed and Oswald's little heart-to-heart really had me stumped for a while, but I think it turned out okay...? In any case, thank you so, so much for reading - and PLEASE let me know how I'm doing!
> 
> Oh man, and the next chapter should be interesting. We're getting into 3x05-06 territory...and you know what that means, right? ;)


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